What can I say? Why do I want words?
 This love is so much higher 
 than the words that shape my art
 I think of my love and words leave me lonely
 So that I cannot write, I cannot live as I used to
 And there is no poem
 only naked yearning
 
 Shadows of my love can be spoken
 But in my presence is the real thing
 This is the poem not yet written
 about the love not yet born
 formed of thoughts - silently screaming
 trapped without expression.
 
 Don't stop seeking at my words
 They fail you.
 Come to me - let me show you
 how I want you.